Two Weeks
by Mummyluvr
Summary: Two weeks after Dean was supposed to die, he's still alive.  And the one person who can answer all of his questions and shed some light on the mystery might not even be a person at all...  Oneshot. Spoilers for Bedtime Stories.


Sorry. Couldn't help but write this after Bedtime Stories :) It's a theory that won't leave me alone...

**Title:** Two Weeks

**Summary:** Two weeks after Dean was supposed to die, he's still alive. And the one person who can answer all of his questions and shed some light on the mystery might not even be a person at all... One-shot. Spoilers for Bedtime Stories.

**Rating:** K+ for some language

**Warnings:** Spoilers for episode 3.05 Bedtime Stories

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Two Weeks

Two weeks. It had been two weeks since his year had run out, since his clock had stopped ticking, since the hourglass had lost its sand, and he was still there. Maybe a normal person would have felt better about that fact, maybe a normal person would have thanked his lucky stars. Dean Winchester, however, was far from normal, and had become increasingly nervous as the minutes past his predetermined expiration date ticked by.

He tried to not rain on his brother's parade, though. Sam had tried so hard to save him, had been so happy when he'd woken up the day after Dean's final day and found the older man very much alive. He'd nearly had a heart attack, as had Dean.

The older brother had gone out to the closest crossroads that night, two weeks ago, and waited for the demon. She hadn't shown. There were no hellhounds, no smoke, nothing ominous, just Dean and some dirt. And his car, of course.

He'd waited all night.

It had been two weeks since Dean was supposed to have been taken to Hell, and the brothers had finally decided to go hunting again. It looked to be a routine exorcism, a demon haunting a small town in Nebraska, causing some deadly accidents in a local high school. Sam had offered to do the research, calling up Bobby for some help on locating the damn thing, while Dean scouted the school. He'd never expected to find the little bitch waiting for him.

She really was a pretty girl, with blonde hair about the length of his brother's (proving, in Dean's mind, that he'd always been right and Sam had a girl's cut) and sparkling green eyes. She was short, and he towered over her in the abandoned parking lot where she'd cornered him. She was fierce. She was ready for a fight.

"Let's just get this over with, ok?" Dean drawled, pulling his father's journal from inside his jacket.

"Aren't you curious why?" the demon asked, flashing a perfectly malicious smile.

"Why what? Why you're possessing this poor girl? Nah, I can do without the explanations."

"You really are the stupid one," she shot, "and a horrible liar. I can see it in your eyes, Dean."

The hunter narrowed said eyes. "Meg."

"Darn tootin."

"Don't suppose you'll just leave the girl if I ask you nice."

"Nope." She smiled. "Besides, I've sparked your interest. We both know you wanna know why. And I can tell you. All you've gotta do is put that nice jumble of scrap paper away and hear me out."

"You really expect me to do that?"

"You know you want to."

And he did. It had been the only thing on his mind for the past two weeks, why he was still alive, why he wasn't burning. It seemed reasonable that the only one who could give him answers was a demon. He shoved the journal back into its specified place. "Talk."

She smiled again, showing off teeth that must have taken years of braces to straighten so perfectly, and plopped down on the curb. He sat on the asphalt across from her. "You made a deal," she explained, "but you didn't make it with the boss. You made it with a lackey."

"The boss?"

Meg nodded. "He wanted your soul, Dean. He wanted it real bad."

"What's so special about me?"

"That's right, I forgot," she laughed, "you're worthless, aren't you? Sam's the one we're after. You see, daddy wanted your soul for leverage. He knew your brother, knew he'd do anything to save your pathetic ass. That was the plan all along. Get your soul, get your brother."

"Azazel's dead."

The girl's face contorted in rage. "Don't remind me," she hissed.

"So how am I still alive?"

"Simple. When daddy died, a new boss took his place. Chain of command and all. He wanted your soul real bad, too, maybe even more than daddy did."

"Then why'd he let me live?"

Meg shrugged. "I dunno. I thought the Crossroads Demon had a point."

He narrowed his eyes. "What are you talking about?"

"You mean Sammy didn't tell you? He went to see her a couple of months after you boys opened the gate. He begged for your soul. And then he shot her."

"That's a lie."

"Why do you think she didn't show, Dean? Think she had something more important to do that night? Sam shot her. Killed her with the Colt. And he did it because he didn't like what he heard when he summoned her."

"And what's that?" Dean asked through clenched teeth.

"The truth. That he couldn't save you and that he was glad about it. That the new boss wants your soul more than my father did. That he could be free once you were out of the picture."

"If this new demon wants me more than the old one, then why am I still here?"

Meg shrugged. "Dunno. Guess he changed his mind."

"Changed his mind?" the hunter questioned, growing more frustrated as the truth continually eluded him, as she led him farther down a path of lies.

"Yeah. Guess maybe he wanted you to stay here with him, guess he decided that you're worth it."

"What the Hell are you talking about?" Dean demanded, getting quickly to his feet and whipping the journal out of his pocket, prepared to send the demon back to Hell.

"The new king, of course," Meg said, flashing a malicious grin, her eyes turning black as the truth registered in the hunter's face and the journal fell to the ground from shock-slackened hands, "my new boss, the one who wants your soul more than anything else."

"No. Please."

The girl opened her mouth, releasing the demon up into the sky, the answer to the two week mystery whispering through his brain as the creature took its leave. _Sam_.

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The end. What do you think? Any opinions... besides 'this chick is off her rocker?' 


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